


Harder (and I might just break for you)

by Lexiee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexiee/pseuds/Lexiee
Summary: Just a story about two boys who would go extraordinary lengths for each other. One might say... to hell and back.Featuring a mildly crazy god, his meddling family (who might be even crazier than him) and our favourite engineer who just wants a fucking hug."...Loki. Who the fuck is Loki?Thankfully there’s nothing a quick search can’t solve, and for this one he doesn't even have to dive into the deep web. Must be his lucky day. Unless it's like a damn criminal nickname, in which case he's done his whole redemption act for nothing.(Back in business, baby.)"





	1. we break down a little

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I have to admit, I've been working on the layout of this fic for months. My first (of hopefully many) frostiron fic, and I'm super excited to present it. English is not my first language, so if something does not quite make sense, let me know, just be gentle :) (or not)

Loki’s been called a lot of things in his life. Deceiver, traitor, liar - the true villain to Thor’s hero. The one who travels through light, Silvertounge, ˈloʊki - and a couple more he won’t admit to - couple more he can’t. He’s worn many shapes and skins throughout history, but never once forgotten who he was.

Not until the void  _(yes, you just keep telling yourself that)_ _._

What’s the truth, you say? That depends on who you ask. Thor could never understand him, could never tell the story as it was, and in that way he’s always been like the rest of Asgard - never being able to grasp Loki’s ways, his mind _("it’s unnatural, the way he’s always up to no good - I say we cannot trust the young prince. Pray the_ norns _that a weak thing like him_ won't _to make his first millennia")._

His mo-

Frigga’s merely shown him magic out of desperation – longing for a way to connect with him – you see, he’s always kept to his books. Oh no, make no mistake, he was always around. Watching, planning, understanding those around him so he could predict their next moves, and as he watched them from afar throughout the centuries, they learnt to ignore him in return.

He never wanted their attention anyway _(he only ever wanted to belong)_ _._

He’s got something they don’t, though – a soulmark. “Two parts of the same soul” the story goes, but that’s not all there is to it, Loki knows, he learnt this within the first few decades of his life - his mate will love him unconditionally, truly, and will be on his side  _(not on Thor’s, oh, never on Thor’s)_ _._

He will be perfect, glorious beside him, and the only thing Loki will ever be truly dedicated to. That, oh, he swears.

So Loki waits, and Loki plots - as a mantra, this is what keeps him alive during his long years of following  _(protecting)_ his brother and his friends who only ever hated him.  


...And as the void comes – stays, it never, ever goes away – Loki doesn’t know who he is anymore. He has nothing – he  **is**  nothing.

But the mark, Anthony Edward Stark he still wears proud as ever – now with his eyes glowing blue.  


***

  
Tony’s been called a lot of things in his life. It’s in his go-to introduction “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”.  


Or, you know, it works without the commas too - that much depends on the context.  
Of course, if you take this conversation elsewhere, they’ll use different words.

“Smartass, entitled, slut, privileged” - and they’re not wrong, in a way. Tony’s all kinds of fucked up, really. He talks too much, hurts people with his every turn, is the perfect example of white male privilege. He rubs people the wrong way, is on the wrong side of sarcastic, and he’s been alone for so long, he wouldn't know how to handle company if he had it.

Good thing that’s something he doesn’t have to worry about though - in a world where everyone bears a beautiful tattoo on their wrists, the name of their soulmate’s, Tony’s wrists are bare.  


A real freak - just like his father always said.  


***  


There’s a strong tug at Loki’s heart, his wrist bleeding profoundly as he’s sitting in his cell. “Helicarrier” they call this flying fortress, whereas Loki thinks flying death would be more of a fit.  
_(It matters not, what you think.)_ _  
_ And it doesn’t.

His master is impatient, and he keeps a short leash on Loki’s mind - he has to find a way to save them all, and quick, before the Chitauri comes raining down on them.

The man in the metal suit is his winner card, he knows. Man of Iron, his name is. He too, wears a bloodied bandage around his left wrist, and Loki is itching with intent to heal the wound.  
_(He’s just a weak mortal - will not be more than a casualty. Focus.)_

_  
_ Their leader, with eyes like Odin’s, is a good commander, but a heartless, cruel man. He views the people of their capital as numbers, not as souls, and Loki can use that to his advantage. He only needs to make sure everyone is in the right place when it all happens.

And so he waits, and he plots.

 

***  


It’s a Monday when Tony wakes up in agony, the left side of his bed bloodied. His hands first fly to his chest to touch the reactor – it never truly stops hurting, the shrapnel cutting into his flesh, but with everything intact, he sits up, trying to will the morning haziness away from his mind.   
It's four am, and he's only been in his bedroom for an hour and forty minutes, of which he spent seventy-two minutes and five seconds asleep according to the information JARVIS displays out in front of him.

The pain is intense in his chest and left arm, but it's his wrist that's bleeding – so he tears the case off of his pillow, wraps it tightly, and spends the next few seconds breathing heavily, leaning to his right side, listening to JARVIS’s voice.

“We are in Stark Tower, New York City, the weather is quite pleasant, currently 26 degrees centigrade.” With that, he switches the television on across Tony’s bed.” Miss Potts is in DC, finishing up that press conference, and she’s enjoying herself quite a bit if I may say so. You have a sustainable injury it seems, sir, on your left wrist, but there are no indications on any outside forces leaving it. I’d suggest a high-pressure bandage, of which you own several, one right under your bed in the first aid kit.”  
  


“Lower the snark buddy” he breaths out, calmer now. He sits up the bed, probably more carelessly than he should (if that dizzy feeling is anything to go by), and starts examining his wrist.  
_Sweet Jesus on a flaming bicycle._

Underneath all that blood, pieces of skin and bits of flesh coming off, there’s something on him – something that’s not supposed to be there! A mark. His mark – his soulmark.  
_(Do you think your soulmate is gonna be mad that you’re such a slut? How many people did you fuck again? Oh, cannot keep count? What about the ones that fucked you?)_

Okay, it might be a bunch of runes he can’t really understand (yet), but he can work with that. He’s a goddamned genius, world’s finest, limited edition, and he’s quite confident he can learn every fucking rune there has been in history – maybe within the next four hours or so.

“Jarvis, how many runes are there?” Tony asks, all while he’s running calculations already. He just needs to scan it, find the source, and translate it. That’s gonna take less than 120 seconds. And well, if he can’t do it – surely he can write an algorithm that will. That would add an additional forty minutes, twenty if he lets JARVIS do most of the actual work.

“It appears to be Norse, sir. Futhark, if I’m not mistaken. I’ll require a closer look to manage a translation”

“How about that?” A slow, confident smirk creeps up on his face. He's got this.  


***  


The mark on his arm is actually one rune, not two, as he originally thought. Might as well, one is a lot easier to trace and track - but then again, it leaves a bigger room for error.  
He makes it down to his lab, the first time in forever without any coffee, but he cannot wait, simply **will not** wait any longer for this.  
_(He’s got that fancy pressure bandage on instead anyway.)_

He scans the rune, puts JARVIS on mute (not necessarily in that order) and takes a deep breath.   
It’s now or never.

**Loki.**

Loki. Who the fuck is Loki?   
Thankfully there’s nothing a quick search can’t solve, and for this one he doesn't even have to dive into the deep web. Must be his lucky day. Unless it's like a damn criminal nickname, in which case he's done his whole redemption act for nothing.

_(Back in business, baby.)_

  
If we’re looking old Icelandic, not much comes up, poems about kinship and family, tales about betrayal and blood, and so on and on and on. It's probably very deep and touching if you're into that kinda shit, but art isn't really what Tony's after now.

Old Norse though... or Norwegian, should he say, makes it a whole lot clearer. It's not a rune that associated with Loki, but it **is** for Loki himself.  
Well.  
Clearly Tony Stark can’t be that much of a freak if he’s got a friggin' demigod as a soulmate.

Yeah, just let that sink in.  


***  


As it happens, he doesn't have to go looking for his soulmate. All the information he needs – for now anyway – dops itself in his lap, inside of a smart black folder delivered by Agent Coulson. Looks like he  **is** a lucky bastard today.   
_(Or, he just finally slipped into insanity – admittedly a few years later than everyone thought he would.)_

So he does his homework, acts like a good boy should – but not good enough that they could question his motives. As they bring him in, he starts overriding every SHIELD file ever, not just on this ship, but on every online (and offline) base they've ever had.

Because goddamnit, he's not playing.

And if his soulmate ends up being the mad mass murderer they think him, well then, Tony reserves the right to put that last bullet right through him.   
_(Oh, but repulsors hurt so much more.)_

Or, you know, take over the world with him. Whatever works.

 

**  


Tony's desperate enough when he sees Thor standing above Loki that he doesn't feel any remorse as he attacks Thor, throws him through trees and air – but oh, does Thor give as good as he gets.

Failure isn't an option – that's non-negotiable. Not now, and not in this. He's confident he'll come out a winner of this fight right up until Rogers interferes.

_(His damn father was so busy waxing poetry about Rogers' greatness, he never mentioned what a dick the Captain was.)_  
Together they bring Loki to the helicarrier. He doesn't look Loki in the eye, doesn't say a word to him, and won't take off the mask. He doesn't need an audience – he doesn't want anyone to know Loki is his soulmate, this is his ace. Or one of them, anyway.

Loki is frantic, makes a hell of a mess, but the whole thing... the whole thing doesn't make sense. Tony is not a villain, but this isn't the gameplan he would go by. So yeah, maybe Loki  _is a_ mad god, alright, but then again maybe this is nothing but a horrible temper tantrum.

Or... Thor seems to think someone gave Loki knowledge, that someone gave him the sceptre and the power – is Loki betraying that man? Is he setting up the fight just to lose it? He looks awfully cosy for someone that just got captured by the enemy. They are either in great danger, or even greater despair.

There are too many variants to make a solid deduction – he needs more data. More data that he can't seem to get unless he frees Loki from his cage and takes them somewhere private.

_(Now that sounds like my kind of party.)_

 

 

_**_

 

 

As it turns out, Loki is an independent demigod who needs no man to break him out of custody. Which is, okay, fine, it's not like Tony wanted to jeopardize his standing with SHIELD, or like he had three different gameplans worked out already.

_(Five, actually.)_

That doesn't make it any easier when The attack on New York happens. He's drawn to Loki, in a way that he's not sure how he's supposed to refuse him, to live a life without him, but he's determined to push all that down and fight him – or let the Hulk do it, whatever.

He's got a plan in place, and he'd like to think himself well prepared – it's a nice contrast to how people usually view him – but still, he's caught off guard when Loki wraps his hand around his neck.

"If I needed evidence that you're a heartless son of a bitch, now I've got it" Tony says with his last breath taken without the barrier. Loki's face twists into something ugly, _primal,_ and pushes Tony into the glass with the strength of the god he is.

_(Fucker.)_

  


  


And, by the way, contrary to what Thor is babbling on about, there’s nothing “ _glorious”_ in battle. Not this one, or any, for that matter. It’s messy, with lots of property damage, and lot more civilian blood than he’s able to deal with.

He’s  **desperate.** Scratch that, you know, because he’s desperate for this soulmate, to finally belong with someone, to be accepted for himself once in his fucking life.

This feeling though? It’s cold, the way it creeps inside his chest, empty in a way that makes him want to slip into insanity.

**Fear.**

Fear, like he has never experienced it before.

He’s got a plan - he always does, that’s not the issue. His mind works on different levels, never stops, and just like a computer, it files everything away.  
It flies away how Loki’s broken body is inside his tower right now, and broken it may be, but alive. It remembers the screams of Roberta, the lady who always offers him a real, warm smile when he orders way too much takeaway from her - she knows it’s only for him, she knows he eats one dish out of the ordered twenty while the rest brings down to Manhattans’ streets for the ones that actually need it. He usually walks in, talking about the huge – nonexistent - afterparty in his living room and how he needs to feed the crowd.

 

His brain remembers all those people running, their facial expressions, their tears and cries and that’s when he turns on the thrusters to full power - he’s got a package to deliver.

 

 

 

Space is hard to describe. It’s not a vision, not how he once thought - it’s something to experience. He can’t breathe. He can feel his heart pounding in his ears, and he helplessly watches as the bomb he brought with him destroys the ship ahead. He has sworn he’s changed, that he was finished with destruction like this.

_(And once again, you lie, Merchant_   _of Death)_

  


There's nothing but the fall. The mighty fall, and so he falls and falls and falls.

He knows he's going to die. He knows and he's not ready, not quite, but if he has saved them all, then it was worth it. The suit might protect him from the pressure, but the impact will kill him – and as he waits to die, he's suddenly not falling anymore. He's being lowered to the ground, and while he's got a couple of guesses of who could have saved him in such heights, he just needs to catch his breath for a moment.

  


"Please tell me nobody kissed me" he gasps and tears the mask off of his face. He feels surrounded, but the only presence his brain registers is Loki in front of him.

"Shh, you foolish mortal, rest now. I have you" Loki murmurs, his green eyes following each tiny movement Tony makes. It makes Tony feel a bit lightheaded, to have all that attention of him – and damn how he wants more.

"I have a long ass name, 'Tony Edward Strark', you know. Won't even charge you if you want to use it" The banter leaves his lips easily, carelessly, when he should be well aware that they're not alone. Damn it, he's usually so much better at putting on a show! "Um, also I'm just gonna ask, why is Rock of Ages still here? Him standing over me might just give me a complex" he adds, as the others stare oddly at the pair of them.

"I could never hurt you, elskan min. You shall never have to fear me again" Loki's deep voice sounds serious, if a little bit hurt, and the way he bows his head makes Tony feel like Loki just make a vow.

_(Because he just did, you dipshit.)  
_ Oh.

 


	2. trippin' when you're gone

Okay, so maybe drinking isn't really a solution _(_ _C_ _2_ _H_ _6_ _O would beg to differ, hah)_ but as Tony sits down on his workshop floor, he feels a bit broken up.

So let's do a recap.

Loki – taken to a shiny SHIELD cell once again. He might be able to work with that, considering that he literally just embedded himself so deep into SHIELD's database, nothing short for a full erasing would work (and if they use any of the old codings for security, even the tiniest bit, then not even that).

Thor is going to take Loki is Asgard at dawn. The later Tony will plan the rescue for (he refuses to use the word 'attack') the less they will be expecting it.

 

A few hours, and a dreadfully unsatisfying nap later Tony finds himself in his suit, flying beside the helicarrier. He wired the camera feed to show a video of Loki in the cell from earlier, hacked into the sound system, and disabled all alarms. He's just working on opening all doors in Loki's path and locking out the agents simultaneously when he addresses the man in the cell.

“Cheer up, buttercup, and let’s just move it along” he says loudly into the comm that connects him to his mate.

“Anthony?” asks Loki in a raspy voice. He looks up, and eyes the walls suspiciously. “What magic hides you?”

“Nope, no magic here. Listen, I’m waiting outside and you pretty much have a clear way to me. When you get close enough, I’ll tear the walls open. Alrighty?”

“No” sounds the firm answer, but Tony is in too deep thought to hear it.

“Okay, let’s get this show on th- wait, what do you mean no? People don’t just say no to me. Let’s try and keep on this tradition, huh?” Tony cannot believe Loki just said that. That's not how things usually work for him, and he'd be very displeased to start that now.

 

“Anthony... Og kjærligheten ble verdens opphav og verdens hersker; men alle dens veier er fulle av blomster og blod, blomster og blod.” If it is even possible, Loki seems to be humming a poem of a foreign land with his eyes closed.

“Did you just swear at me?” Hearing this, Loki looks up again, this time with a wistful smile.

“ _And love turned out to be the origin of the world and its master; but all of its roads are filled with flowers and blood, flowers and blood_ ” Loki then cocks his head to the side, like the arrogant prince he is. “And I’ll rather bleed than to damn you with me, elskan min”

“Not your goddamn decision! Come on, Loki! Where’s that selfish guy everyone knows you are?” demands Tony, pleadingly. He knows well he shouldn't be pushing Loki's buttons like this – the guy is The Manipulator, but he'll bring out all his dirty tricks to make Loki come with him now.

 

“You’re right. I am selfish, but please know that I take good care of all that I believe mine and I cannot do that from an Asgardian cell. Cease now, and remember – you will always have me watching over you, Anthony Edward Stark”

“That’s not how it fucking works! Loki! Loki!” He cries out, as all the electrics fry. Loud and spectacular lightning fills the morning sky, and Tony has never hated a sight more.

 

 

***

 

He spends the next two days in his workshop, buried beneath projects for SI, paperwork, promising contacts and CV’s of people applying for higher positions at his company. It’s all the things he’d usually avoid, mostly because they’re mind-numbing, but right now he considers that a small mercy.

The whole thing makes no sense, he was fine without a soulmate, without Loki, for years, but now that he has met him - and lost him - he cannot function without him.

Wake up, coffee, misery, sleep. Repeat.

 

He’s still Tony Stark, he’s still Iron Man, for god’s sake, he doesn’t even know the guy that well...

...but damn would he die for him.

 _(Maybe we won’t_ _need something quite so dramatic, hm?)_

 

In bed, instead of taking a gorgeous black haired model with him, he takes research papers on the subject of soulbonds. None of those romance novels or the religious studies about them (of course there’s nothing wrong with liking them, believing in them even) but Tony’s never seen the appeal.

No, he’s going to read the research papers written by amazing minds, some of professors, some of doctors, some of extraordinary teenaged individuals, and sort-this-shit-out.

 

" ~~Identical~~ Matching brains.

Maybe there’s no better way to explain it than using a coin. The two sides of which, not indistinguishable, but similar enough that its belonging is obvious. You don't turn your coins over when you're counting out your change as it's unnecessary. You already know it's value, it's belonging.

If you place down a pair of soulbonded humans' brains on a table, it becomes quite easy to fanthom that soulmates are the result of evolution. Humans do better, live longer, create more if they're happily bonded. None of us wants to be alone, and those who do tend to be the ones without marks on their skin (scientific evidence and further thoughts on unmarked individuals on page 7).

The "ink" on our bodies are nothing more than pigmented skin cells..."

 

He doesn’t need a soulmate - never has, never did. He used to beunmarked, and while he wasn't really a spokesperson of the FF movement (Fuck Fate), he believed in free will, not a mark on the body. He still does.

Yet he wants Loki so much - and really, does that have to be a bad thing?

Okay, so maybe Loki found himself in a cell again, no biggie. Tony is an escape artist, and he can free Loki.

**And he will.**

Everything else can be sorted out later.

 

***

 

Then – of course –there are the dreams as well. The first time it happens, Tony is completely unprepared, he’s gone to bed after allowing himself to chug the homemade vodka Madam Taya, an elderly (but not any less scary) lady from SI made him a few months back. Lovely woman, makes a kick-ass pirog, but her vodka is like no others’. He drinks it in big gulps, and the liquid burns with fire all the way down.

Later, he'd blame the alcohol, for the outright feverish vision, dream he experienced.

 

 

 

The room he's in is heavily decorated, very regal looking with frankly more gold than it's tasteful. He looks around in awe for that he's never seen such a detailed scene in his dreams, but as he spots his soulmate, everything else quickly fades in the room.

There, just a few feet away from Tony stands Loki, with a tall, beautiful looking woman, deep in conversation.

"Why am I so different, mother? You birthed us both, yet I find no pleasure in the barbarous things Thor loves so" says the voice that haunts Tony's every waking moment. It seems only logical that it would follow him in his sleep and while he was hoping for a dreamless rest, he knows from experience how much his mind loves to play games o\n him.

"Don't call your brother a savage, Loki" scolds the woman with a soft, feather-like touch to Loki's face.

"I speak only the truth" and with that sentence out of his lips, suddenly the room seems a hell of a lot darker.

_(Maybe this is the turning point when this becomes a bloodbath, and you wake up screaming in your bed.)_

 

"I'm sure you do, Silvertounge." Frigga smiles briefly. "You and Thor are both princes to the throne. So different you are, yet your heart is the same – both made of gold like the walls of Asgard. Impenetrable."

"Mother?" there's a pinched, painful expression on Loki's face, and Tony is only a second away from snapping – Loki cared enough to save his life after only a handful of interactions, for fucks sake! Heartless people don't experience soulbonds nowhere near deep enough for that.

 

"As you love your seidr and your tricks, your brother loves the glory of a won battle – but neither makes a king. You need to learn to love, my child" she soothes Loki, like she means it, like **it** means anything, but Tony...

 

"Well, that's a bunch of bullshit if I ever heard it" he comments. "You can't build an empire on a good heart, that's just not realistic" he turns to Loki. "You are **devious,** yes, but you are a ruler if I've ever seen one. And if **I** still haven't burnt SI to the ground with my problematic self, I'm really quite sure Asgard would gain an amazing king in you."

"My Anthony. Even in dreams, I'm unworthy of your hand" Loki smiles with the same wistful expression he's worn at their last talk.

"Well, I ain't much the marrying type, _my prince,_ but how about both of my arms?" offers Tony lightly, and pulls Loki into a tight hug. The feeling of Loki is so real, Tony can smell the rich scent of his leather clothes from this close. He's not sure if he wants to burrow further into the warmth, or try and tear those gorgeous, but unwanted pieces off Loki.

His chest hurts with the knowledge of how Loki himself might not ever touch him the way Dream Loki does.

At least it's not a nightmare this time, and frankly, unlike in real life, no one can blame him here for wanting to hug the shit out of his soulmate. No one needs to know how much it fucked him up to have Loki gone.

 

He wakes up with a gasp, his chest painfully tight, and he grips the arc reactor in anticipation.

"I'm going to die" he breathes, but as the minutes pass by slowly, his hammering heart slows down a bit.

It's just a weird dream, that's all. He definitely won't be making drinking vodka before bed his favourite past time, that's for sure.

Tony doesn't think much of it, right up until the next time he makes it to his bed for a proper night's sleep, which is three days later.

 

He's in some sort of cell, very clean, rich in books and antique furniture – exactly as crazy looking as he imagines Asgard's prison to be.

"Must you hurt me even in my sleep? Leave at once" says Loki laying on the floor without even sparing him a glance, and that hurts.

"Even for someone my subconscious created, you have serious attitude problems, man" bites back Tony with hardly any heat behind his words. He doesn't want to fight, he just wants to take advantage of this dreamland, and get another fucking hug maybe.

 

"If you knew how I long for this to be real. I'd do anything just to reach out and get to your wonderful mind" Loki says softly, and then in a moment's notice, his snarls and throws a thick, heavy book at Tony. "I don't want a damn dream!"

The pain in his stomach is **very** real, real enough that it knocks him into a wall. Looks like locking Loki up didn't weaken him one bit.

"Fuck, Loki" Tony says breathlessly, and the sound the demigod makes is one of a wounded animal.

"Anthony?" asks Loki then, tentatively, like he fears this to be unreal.

"I'm here. Fuck, I'm really here" it doesn't quite register in Tony's brain. Dream sharing is something only bonded couples experience after years of practice. It's not considered safe, or even an appropriate subject to talk about.

Although he didn't see Loki stand, he's suddenly in front of Tony, caging him with his long, strong body.

"Anthony... hjartað mit, say that you're mine, and I'll never let you go"

"How's that for proof?" Tony unties the cloth from his wrist and puts his hand inside Loki's with his wrist facing up. "You should have listened to me the first time when I asked you to come with me"

"I just want to take. I'll take you, I'll take the key for this cage – then I shall take you again and again, and then together we'll take everything we deserve, elskan min. I'll be your consort on Midgard, the shadow to your kingship, and you'll be my queen across the Nine Realms. Standing by my side" There's a mad glint in Loki's eyes that Tony didn't see before, but it's something he will have to deal with sooner or later.

"How about that we get you out of this place first, then _you take me,_ and then we see where we go from there?"

"For all that I rule lies and liars, I can't help lying to myself. Oh, hjartað mit, how I long for this to be real" puts Loki his index finger on Tony's neck, feeling his pulse, like the rhythm calms him somehow.

 

"No, Loki, I am here. Look at the mark on my skin – this means that I'm yours, just as much as you are mine. I'm here, I hear you, and I will prove it to you Lokes. I will find a way, and I will fight for you. I've seen all the footage at least twice and cross-checked the evidence – I **know** what happened on Earth."

"Tony, maybe the Mad Titan controlled my actions, but don't fool yourself by thinking me good" suddenly the sound of Loki quiets down, like he's walking away from Tony – or like Tony is waking up. Still, he will not leave without having the last word; consider it another bad habit of his.

"I've always thought being good was overrated anyway."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the poem from [hellopoetryDOTcom](https://hellopoetry.com/poem/730621/knut-hamsuns-victoria-1898-on-love/)

**Author's Note:**

> My low self-esteem runs on kudos and comments.  
> Also visit me on my [tumblr](http://sheflieswithherowndamnwings.tumblr.com/), we can hang out, be friends, or you could always just stalk me.


End file.
